


The Wiccaning

by SuperWhoLockianPack



Category: Charmed, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, F/M, M/M, Not Beta Read, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Work In Progress, looking for a beta reader, not sure about the ships, would love feed back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:51:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockianPack/pseuds/SuperWhoLockianPack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it's taken so long but here's the third and the fourth is soon to come</p></blockquote>





	1. Unwelcome Guests

“I’m home dad,” Stiles called as he entered the house, “What was so important that I needed to come home during my lunch hour?” he asked, walking to the kitchen.  
  
“I don’t know,” said a strangely familiar voice, “it couldn’t be that your favorite person in the world came for a visit.”  
  
“Uncle Mic!” he yelled when he’d turned to find the voice  
  
“How ya been kiddo?”  
  
“Great,” Stiles lied, it had been weeks since he, Scott and Allison had revived the Nemotoch in order to stop Jennifer, and he had been having strange dreams every night. “What about you,” he asked, “Where have you been?”  
  
“Well I just flew in from San Francisco, which by the way is quite possibly home to the largest population of freaks the world has ever seen, and before that I was in Arizona on a dig,” Mic explained. Stiles made a mental note not to make a joke about the “freaks” one might encounter in Beacon Hills, “Speaking of which,” Mic said as he began digging through his satchel, “I got a little something for my favorite nephew…got you something too,” he said with a smile, he pulled out a leather bracelet with a crystal fixed in a facet, “A shaman gave it to me,” Mic explained as he fastened it to Stiles’ wrist, “it’s supposed to bring clarity in your journey.”  
  
“Thanks,” Stiles said examining the trinket, “so how long are you in town for?”  
  
“By the weight of his luggage you’d think he was moving in,” Stiles’ father gripped as he descended the stairs.  
  
“Awe you know me, never learned to travel light,” Mic said patting his brother-in-law on the back, “But I’ll be in town just a week or so. I’m overseeing the procurement of a few artifacts in the next town over and thought since it was such a short drive that I might as well stay with family.”  
  
“That’s great,” Stiles exclaimed, “you’ll get to see me play first line on lacrosse.”  
  
“That I will my boy, but I have some business to attend to and you should probably get back to school. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up at dinner tonight,” Mic said walking his nephew to the door.  
  
“Alright, maybe you can help me cook,” Stiles asked not understanding why his uncle seemed in such a hurry.  
  
“Sure kiddo, I’d love to,” Mic said as his phone rang, “Go on don’t want to be late getting back.”  
  
Stiles paused on the porch as Mic closed the door behind him. For as long as he could remember, his uncle had always been against him going to public school. Mic had wanted him to attend some boarding school in Boston, he had even once offered to pay for it, but Stiles just shrugged it off and headed back to school.  
  
As Stiles walked into the building the bell rang signaling the end of lunch hour. Great, Stiles thought, now I’ll be late for history…again. Stiles snuck into the back of the classroom as the teacher was writing on the board.  
  
“Nice of you to join us Mr. Stilinski,” the teacher said without turning around, “I trust you have a colorful explanation about why it is you are so incredibly tardy today.”  
  
“Well Mr. Hicks, I don’t know that I would call three minutes incredible,” he retorted.  
  
“Try fifteen,” Hicks said flatly.  
  
“Oh…wow. I’m sorry,” Stiles began his apology, “but…”  
  
“Save it for this afternoon in detention Mr. Stilinski.”  
  
At that Stiles took his seat next to Isaac, “So what kept you?” the boy whispered. He and Stiles had grown much closer as of late, partly because Stiles felt a special connection with him because they’d both lost their mothers at young ages, and partly because Stiles was very much a paternal figure to the pack members.  
  
“My uncle just flew in,” he answered, “it was a surprise and I just lost track of time.”  
  
“Uncle…the archeologist?” asked Isaac. Stiles talked about Mic all the time, he truly was his favorite relative. Really he was the only relative from his mother’s side that Stiles and his father ever heard from.  
  
“Yeah, that’s the one. He’s in town for a week or so. You and Scott should come over for dinner tonight and say hello,” Stiles offered knowing that the wolves could use a break from ‘Agent McCall’ Scott’s father.  
  
“I’ll ask, but Scott’s been a little…”  
  
“Mr. Lahey I realize that you and Mr. Stilinski lead such fascinating lives that no one could ever compare, but I do believe that if, for a moment, you could be so kind as to at least drift off or tune out so that some of us might be able to learn about the great women of history.” Mr. Hicks said  
  
“Yes sir,” Isaac said, tail tucked between his legs. Hicks had a way of yelling without ever raising his voice and a glare that could make even the most hardened criminal call out for his mommy, when he aimed them at you it made you feel as if you were three inches tall.  
  
“Scott’s been a little what,” Stiles asked after Hick’s began the lesson again  
  
“He’s been a little off lately,” Isaac answered, “He’s been moody, and restless” Isaac tried to hide his concern, but it was useless, Stiles knew him too well.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Stiles said, “I’m sure it’s just the fact that ‘Agent McCall is hovering.”  
  
“Yeah,” Isaac said, visibly relaxing, “I’m sure your right.”  
  
“My house, tonight, seven o’ clock sharp,” Stiles said, “I’m making baked ziti with garlic bread and salad, you guys should bring a dessert…store bought,” he added remembering the last time those two had tried to cook.  
  
“Alright,” Isaac agreed with a slight chuckle.  
  
Thirty minutes later the bell rang and Stiles was off to the library to do some research during his free period. In fact, ever since he’d found out Scott was a real live werewolf he’d thrown himself into studying the occult, myths, and folklore. His studies seemed more important now than they ever had in the past, now that the town was going to become some sort of mystical beacon, drawing in God knows what sorts of creatures. Today’s topic of choice was banshees. After all the girl he’d been in love with since pre-school just found out she was one and he wanted to be able to help in any way he could. He was neck deep in research a hand on his back jolted him back into reality and nearly made him fall from his chair.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Said Ethan as he took the seat next to Stiles, “I just thought I’d take this opportunity to apologize…I haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to you since everything went down.” Ethan and his twin brother Aiden had stayed behind when Scott and Derek let Deucalion leave. They wanted a chance at normal lives, and after practically everyone in the alpha pack had been killed, who could blame them, “I-I just wanted to say that I’m sorry…about what happened to Erica and Boyd,” Stiles shot the alpha a glare when he mentioned his friends’ names and Ethan suddenly became fascinated with the carpet, “I know it’s difficult to lose a friend.” He said as he stretched out a hand to touch the boy’s shoulder, but recoiled when a bolt of static electricity entered his hand, ran up his arm and down his spine.  
  
Stiles shrunk away from the boy, not feeling the exchange that took place, “Difference is your friends were murderers,” he responded coldly, “mine weren’t”  
  
“You’re right,” Ethan admitted rubbing the palm of the hand that had been shocked, “I just want you to know that things are different; Aiden and I are different now.” Ethan desperately wanted Stiles to accept his apology. He couldn’t quite explain it, but for whatever reason he felt like he needed Stiles in his corner.  
  
“Look,” Stiles turned to the younger boy, “I know better than anyone one that love can take you from homicidal to cute and cuddly; love can be an anchor in the stormy sea, but just because you’ve changed doesn’t mean my feelings toward you have. I need time…and space,” he said glancing down at how little space there was between them, “I can’t just flip a switch and be your brand new bestie,” he said raising his voice a few octaves as he said ‘brand ne besties’, “it’s gonna take time and some serious effort before I trust you.”  
  
“I understand,” Ethan said solemnly, “I’m just glad you’re open to it.”  
  
Stiles nodded slightly and turned back to face the computer, “Now I have some research to do.”  
  
“On what?” Ethan asked attempting to peer at the screen.  
  
“Plastic surgery,” Stiles remarked as he positioned himself to block the monitor, “I’m contemplating ass implants.”  
  
“I get it, none of my business,” he said as he stood, “just think about what I said, kay?”  
  
“Yeah” Stiles said absently.  
  
Maybe now I’ll get some work done, he thought to himself. No sooner did he turn back to the computer that the bell rang signaling the end of his free period, “God, why do you hate me?” the teen asked quietly to his self.


	2. Prema-What-Now

The rest of the day went by in a fog. Stiles was, as usual thinking about a hundred things: first there was the banshee research which said the banshee moaned in despair, their scream worked as a sort of homing device, but in some cases was lethal. It also said that banshees were linked to both the plane of the living and that of the dead. All this worried Stiles because in all of it there wasn’t really anything that he felt would comfort Lydia. Then there was the whole Ethan situation, how he was never going to trust him. Especially since he had been having dreams where he saw Ethan all wolfed out and attacking some guy. So many things were rattling around, vying for attention. Stiles found it impossible to focus on one thing. The good thing however was that he was able to completely tune out of his classes. 

By the end of the day Stiles was wishing he could just go home and spend some time with his uncle, but he still had that pesky attention. As he got to Mr. Hick’s classroom the teacher was locking up to leave when he turned he saw Stiles, “Mr. Stilinski, can I help you with something?” the man seemed confused to see him and at only thirty years old the man was nowhere near senile. 

“You gave me detention sir,” Stiles admitted hesitantly.

“Did I, well must have slipped my mind. Tell you what, I don’t want to stay here any more than you do how bout you serve it tomorrow when I have tests to grade?” suggested the teacher.

“Fine by me sir,” Stiles said thanks, “thanks.” And with that he raced off before the teacher could change his mind.

On the way home Stiles tried to focus on the nights tasks. First I’ll see if Mic needs any help unpacking, he thought, knowing Mic, he’s way over packed and it’ll take an hour or two if he tells me stories behind the artifacts he’s brought with him which… Stiles thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly saw some one in the middle of the road. He tried to swerve to avoid them, but to no avail. The poor girl flew in to his windshield and rolled off the roof, Stiles stretched to a stop and ran back to check on the girl, but there was no one there he looked around and saw no one. As he turned to go to his car, there was no damage to speak of. 

“I’ve got to stop taking so much Adderall,” he said aloud. He got back in his car and headed for home once more, this time driving under the speed limit watching very carefully.

“Hey Stiles is that you” called Mic from the top of the stairs when he heard movement below, “I could really use some help unpacking…” Mic was silenced by a blow to the back of the head.

“Who the hell is this,” asked a man with fire-engine hair and a snake tattoo that wound from the right side of his neck to up above his left brow.

“Leverage,” answered a taller much broader man, “tie him up, its time we stopped working so hard to avoid the little witch.” 

“I’m home Mic,” Stiles called as he entered the front door riffling through his bag, “Do you need any help un… pack… ing” Stiles was stunned as he looked around; the house had been ransacked but there weren’t any broken windows, all the lock mechanisms were functioning, even still locked. What the hell is going on, he thought to his self. He headed up the stairs to see if his uncle was taking a nap, and to get some answers, but when he touched the railing images flashed in his mind, images of his uncle being struck over the head and carried away. Stiles wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it but he could feel that something was off, he called his father, the police, and the pack, he was pulling out all the stops, because, for whatever reason, he felt that he should trust what he saw.

“Stiles are you okay?” asked the sheriff arriving on the scene.

“I’m fine Dad,” Stiles answered, “the place was like this when I got here.” Stiles had been in the middle of giving his report when his father arrived, but he was glad for the interruption because the deputy taking his statement was a bit pushy and Stiles was having a hard time trying to hide the fact that he knew his uncle had been taken. 

“Dad I think Uncle Mic was kidnapped… er… well taken.” He whispered.

“What? Why did we get a call?” the Sheriff was on edge, he knew what kind of money his brother in law made and it was way more than he’d ever seen and he wasn’t sure if he could meet the demands.

Stiles could feel his father’s panic mounting. “No, Dad. I sort of… saw it… in my head.” Stiles had never seen his father’s expression change as quickly as it did just then, confusion, pride and worry flashed across his face in a second, then he went full sheriff mode.

“Alright I want every inch of this home dusted for prints. I need an APB out on Mikael J. Warren, he’s my brother-in-law he makes a great deal of money and may have been abducted.”

Stiles loved seeing his father like this, all serious and salty, but he knew he would have to try to explain what he saw, but how am I supposed to do that when I don’t even know what it was or how it happened he thought to him self. 

“Alright,” he said turning back to Stiles, he led his son in to the, study so they could have a private conversation, “what did you see?”

“Uh two men, Mic getting hit over the head, a tattoo, it was just flashes.” Stiles was confused. His father asked what he’d seen, not how, or what it meant, and that look of pride in his eye earlier, what was that about, “why aren’t you blowing this off, or at least a little more freaked out?”

“You had a premonition, nothing to freak about.” “Did you see the faces of the two men?”

“Prema-what-now” Stiles asked baffled.

“Son we don’t have time to get in to details right now,” he said, “long story short you’re a witch and one of your powers is premonition, which means you can see past, future and in certain cases, present events. Now did you see their faces?”

“I’M A WITCH!?” the boy half-yelled.

The sheriff quickly covered the kid’s mouth, “will you keep it down!? I wasn’t sure since you never showed signs of having powers but yes. Your mothers was a witch and apparently so are you.”

Stiles fell into his father’s chair that sat behind him. He was shocked, for a moment he thought that he was dreaming but even his vast imagination couldn’t come up with this. About that time Scot showed up with Isaac and new members of the pack Nora and Skaii.

“Are you okay!?” Scott asked rushing to his friend’s side, “were you here when it happened, did you get hurt, is anything missing?” Scott’s mind was racing. He wasn’t sure what he would do if anything happened to Stiles, after all he had been the only constant in Scott’s life.

“I’m fine, no, no, and my uncle.”

“Mic is missing?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered, “and apparently I’m a witch,” he continued shooting a glare at his father. 

“A witch?” both his friends repeated in disbelief.

“We don’t have time for this,” his father interrupted,” You wolves upstairs to the guest bedroom, you need to get his scent; Stiles you and I are going to the basement.”

“Why are we going to the basement?” Stiles questioned.

“Because we need some things of your mother’s.” his father answered. As they emerged from the office, Stiles’ dad nearly ran into one his deputies, “whoa son where’s the fire?” he asked grasping the young man’s shoulders. He looked barely older than Stiles and definitely not self sure enough to be carrying a gun, a Taser and pepper spray. 

“Sorry sir,” he apologized with Scottish accent, “I was just comin’ to inform you that we’d finished up and were headed back to the station.”

“Alright Ferguson,” he responded the sheriff; “I’ll take stock and try to figure out if anything is missing.”

“Very good sir,” and with that Ferguson rushed away to his cruiser.

“You, me, basement, now.” The sheriff said turning back to his son.  
Stiles was still trying to wrap his head around the whole witch thing when he had another vision. He saw his mother and Derek’s mother in the basement. His mother was mixing something and she dropped a scrap of clothing in, suddenly he saw a crystal spinning in circles. 

“Dad,” he called when the vision stopped. “What’s down there?” he questioned.

“The tools of the craft,” he answered simply. Stiles’ father continued in to the darkness, he called for the boy to follow and he obeyed. The sheriff flicked on a light and walked toward the far wall, “Give me your hand, son,” he instructed. Stiles did as he was told. His father took out the knife from his belt and cut the boy’s palm.

“OW! What the hell, Dad,” Stiles protested jerking away from his father and holding his injured hand.

“Press your palm to the wall,” the sheriff instructed.

“And wind up with some sort of infection? No thanks”

“STILES,” he yelled, “I know you’re angry, and scared and confuse, but your uncle is in serious trouble and the only way he’s getting out of it is for you to do as I say, shut your smart ass mouth and press your bleeding palm to that wall!” Stiles was shocked his father very rarely yelled at him. He slowly walked to the wall and pressed his hand to the rough, cold cinderblocks. After a moment, the wall began to dissolve where he touched it. The dematerialization radiated outward and revealed a room he’d ever seen.

“What is this place?”

“This was your mother’s alter-room,” his father answered. “This is where she kept her magical items… except for certain herbs that were used for cooking and magic.”

“And that wall you just made disappear?” Stiles asked.

“You made it disappear, son,” his father said, “it’s something your mother called ‘blood magic’ only someone who shared blood ties with her could undo the spell.”

“Cool…” the boy said as he crossed the threshold. The room seemed impossibly large to be hidden in their basement, but then again who was Stiles to question the laws of magic. He leisurely walked about the room which was lined on either side by shelves, the right side filled with books of various thicknesses, the left full of dried herbs, vials of liquids and many other assorted items.

“Stiles!” his father shouted attempting to get his son’s attention.

“Focus, we’re looking for a purple crystal, big, thick, leather bound book and a map.”

“Right,” he turned back to the shelves to look for the book and he was almost immediately disheartened, his mother and hundreds of books and more than half were leather bound. 

“Dad… can I have a little better description.” He said without turning from the shelves.

“Oh… yea. The one you’re looking for is brown and the front cover has a full moon with a crescent moon on either side.” The sheriff described as he searched the other side of room for the Amethyst crystal. 

“Stiles looked through the books quickly scanning through the spines ruling out one after the other until finally he got to the top row and saw one that might fit the bill, “I think I found it,” he said to his father.

“Good, grab it.”

“Can’t,” Stiles said straining to reach, “it’s too high”, “how did Mom ever get to this stuff? And who puts anything that high up anyway?” he complained waving his arm indicating the top shelf. As he swept his arm through the air all the books on the top shelf toppled to the floor. Stiles looked at the books then his father, “what the hell was that?”

“Magic,” his father replied with a shrug, “now get that book and look up scrying.”

Stiles was slightly dumbfounded that his father could accept magic yet had a hard time believing when he’d tried to tell him about werewolves, nonetheless he went to retrieve the book. 

“What is this book anyway? A spell book?” he said half joking.

“Well if you put it simply then yes, but your mother said it’s more like a guidebook.” The sheriff replied still looking for the crystal. Stiles began frantically waving his arms around trying to replicate what had just happened, his father turned around to his son flailing about looking like a moron, he inhaled sharply and for just a moment, tried to think of what to say. When words failed him he settled for throwing a journal like book at the back of the boy’s head.

“OW!” Stiles shouted.

“That didn’t hurt, don’t be such a ninny.” His father said, “Now I’m going to continue to try and help your uncle, if you don’t mind.” With that he turned back to the shelf. Stiles went to pick up the book to throw it back at his father, but it had fallen open and he recognized his mother’s hand writing. He picked up and turned back to the first page ad began reading.

To my Angel,

I’m not sure if you’ll need this, but you never know, after all I was a late bloomer. If you do need this it means you’re a witch. I know that’s a lot but you have to learn accept that, trust me. I won’t be there for you in a lot of ways and for that I’m sorry; it’s not fair for you to have to go through this without me there to guide you, that’s why I’m writing this. The pages of these journals will hold all the things I could have ever hoped to teach you, not just about being a great witch, but the secrets to being a great person as well.

With all my love,  
Mom

Stiles had tears in his eyes, it wasn’t just reading what she had written… because of his gift of premonition he could actually feel her writing it. He could feel how much it hurt her to know she’d never see him graduate, get a degree, get married, it killed that the only thing she could do to influence his path was to write a series of journals.

“Stiles,” his fathers voice had a soft, comforting tone, the kind he had used when Stiles was young and there were monsters in the shadows, “we have to get to work if we are gonna save Mic.”

Stiles took a deep breath and sat the journal aside.

“Alright.” He said voice still a little shaky, “Let’s do this.”


	3. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long but here's the third and the fourth is soon to come

When Stiles and his father emerged from the basement, they were armed with the book and the crystal. The pair were headed for the kitchen when Scott and Isaac came rushing down the stairs.  
  
“I smell blood; is everything okay?” Scott asked a little frantic.  
  
“Everything is fine,” Stiles answered, “I just had to de-spell my mother’s alter-room,” Stiles was trying extremely hard not to fall apart.  
  
“I’m sorry… de-spell?” Isaac repeated in disbelief.  
  
“Did you miss the part earlier where I told you guys I’m a witch?” Stiles said with a little more acid in his voice than he had meant to have.  
  
“Just having a hard time wrapping my head around it is all” Isaac said.  
  
“Last semester our English teacher used the power of a tree to try and take down an alpha pack, you howl at the moon, and you’re having a hard time accepting magic?” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Point taken,” he said, “what are you going to do now?”  
  
“Scrye for my uncle,” Stiles replied, “unless you already have the scent.”  
  
“No luck,” Scott replied, “It’s as if they just vanished.”  
  
Just as the words escaped Scott’s lips Mic appeared in front of them.  
  
“Stiles listen I don’t have much time,” he said panicked. “There’s something your father and I never told you…”  
  
“You, Mom, and most of that side of the family are witched,” Stiles interrupted.  
  
“Well… yes. How did you…”  
  
“I had a premonition then Dad explained the rest. Except, how are you here right now?”  
  
“It’s called astral projection, maybe I’ll teach you one day.” Mic explained.  
  
“Oh cool I’d like that.” Stiles said.  
  
“HELLO!” the sheriff half yelled, “Can you two please focus?”  
  
“Oh right!” Mic got back on track. “The men that took me are a part of an ancient coven known as the order. They’re very old and very dangerous. You’ll have to discover the rest for your self, start in the alter room there should be a book on them. I gotta go.” And with that he disappeared.  
  
“Okay new plan,” Stiles announced, “Dad you go back to the station, work the human angle, and they have to have taken him somewhere so look at any deserted buildings or recently purchased real estate. Scott you take Nora and Skaii and meet up with Jackson, you guys fan out and search the city. Isaac, you’re with me on research duty.”  
  
“Why Isaac?” Scott asked.  
  
Because Scott, you’re the Alpha and if one of the pups find Mic they’ll need you,” Stiles explained.  
  
“We aren’t incapable Stiles,” Skaii protested as he descended the steps.  
  
“This is a new threat. We don’t know what these men can do, or how many friends they may have with them; you aren’t chasing them without the alpha.” Stiles said his tone signaling the finality of his decision.  
  
“You heard the man,” his father said, “now go, go, go.”  
  
“Thanks Dad,” Stiles said giving his father a weak smile.  
  
“Don’t thank me, just be careful.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
Mic came to in iron shackles unsure of where he was, the stretch of rotting flesh filling his nostrils, “Hello,” he called out, “I know there’s someone there, I can sense you.”  
  
“Well I should hope a witch of great Warren line would be able to master something so simple.” Said an elderly man as he emerged from the shadows.  
  
“What do you want?” Mic asked voice full of venom.  
  
“I want what I’ve always wanted, I want mortals to know that magic isn’t smoke and mirrors and that those who possess it are their rightful rulers,” he was nearly shouting by the time he’d reached the end and he took a moment to regain his composure, “and you, Mikael Roemnurg Warren are going to help me.” By this point the old man was inches away from Mic.  
  
“I would sooner face the fires of Salem again than help you enslave the mortals.” He spit on the man to punctuate his point.  
  
“Do not over estimate your usefulness Mikael. We know of the young one. Teenagers are so very impressionable, wouldn’t you agree Emmett,” he said turning to the fiery haired witch.”  
  
“Oh yes,” He responded, “especially in heated situations.” As he said the words his hands became engulfed in flames.  
  
“You monster!” Mic struggled against his binds to no end.  
  
“Tut- tut,” the older man began, “you know as well as I that Iron is one of the few things that can disrupt magic. Now if you’re a good boy we will have no need of your nephew, but if not…” he nodded to Emmitt and with a flick of the man’s wrist a rodent in the corner went up in flames, “we’ll give you some time,” the man said walking back in to the shadows and taking the pyrokenetic with him.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

“Stiles, what exactly am I looking for,” Isaac asked flipping through page after page in book after book.  
  
“Any mention of the Order,” Stiles answered. They had been at this for almost an hour and they had nothing. “You have got to be kidding me,” Stiles complained, “I need answers!” He slammed down his fists and the pages of the book began to turn rapidly.  
  
“Wh-what’s going on,” Isaac asked, slightly shaken.  
  
“Magic…” Stiles said. The pages stopped at spell to summon the dead, “How does this help,” Stiles threw his hands up and Isaac went flying out of his chair. “Sorry,” he says, rushing to help his friend up.  
  
“No, no,” Isaac half-yelled as he got to his feet, “Now, your magic turned to that so it must be a way to find some answers.”  
  
“Yeah, but how,” Stiles asked and began to lift his hands, but Isaac grabbed and forced them back to his side.  
  
“What did I say about the hands,” he remarked sarcastically, “And as far as how the dead can help us…I’m not sure,” Isaac thought for a moment, then his eyes went wide with realization, “Your Uncle knows about the Order right?”  
  
“Yes,” Stiles drew the word out unsure of where his friend was going with this.  
  
“He grew up learning about magic, spells, and everything right?”  
  
“I guess…”  
  
“Who grew up with your uncle,” Isaac asked in the way you do when you already know the answer.  
  
It took Stiles a moment to catch up with Isaac’s train of thought, but when he did his eyes went wide and his voice was an octave or two higher, “My MOM!”


	4. The Summoning

“Okay, so we’re gonna summon the ghost of my mother to ask her what she knows about an ancient coven of witches that has seen fit to abduct my archeologist uncle, who…surprise, surprise is also a witch because my whole damn family, or at least my mother’s side is all witches!?” Stiles was slightly frantic by this point and on the verge of a panic attack, “Is it hot in here,” he asked as he paced the basement, “It’s hot in here,” he said wiping his brow on the back of one hand while using the other to fan himself with his shirt collar.  
  
“Stiles,” Isaac said grabbing the boy by the shoulders, “I realize this is a lot to take in, I’m not sure I grasp it myself, but what I do grasp is the fact that your uncle is in real danger right now and it is within your power to help him,” he was staring at the boy with his piercing blue eyes, using his posture and tone as tools to calm him, “Now just think of this as one of those quests from you online gaming community that battles mythical creatures; do what the quest require and you will be rewarded.”  
  
Stiles took several deep breaths and stepped back into the alter-room, “Alright,” he said going to the book, “I'll need to arrange five candles in a circle,”  
  
“Where do you keep your candles,” Isaac asked eager to help.  
  
“There’s a whole box of those emergency candles that burn for like eight hours over there by my dad’s tool bench,” Stiles answered gesturing with a hand in the general direction of the bench, “I also need sage, an atheme, and,” he paused reading the last part of the spell, “oh great more of my blood,” he groaned  
  
“Got the candles,” Isaac announced as he returned to the alter-room.  
  
“Good, now search those shelves for some sage while I look for an atheme.”  
  
“What’s an atheme?”  
  
“It looks sort of like a knife, but it’s a little longer and has a double-edged blade.”  
  
“Sort of like that,” Isaac said pointing at the wall. Hanging in the middle of the wall on display, not unlike a hunter with their guns, was an atheme.  
  
“Just find the sage,” Stiles demanded, annoyed that he hadn’t seen the knife earlier. With atheme in hand he went back to the book, “Once you find the sage use it to complete the circle, this will ensure that the spirit is bound to the circle and can’t hurt any living thing…and on a side note I’m slightly more terrified.”  
  
Isaac ignored his friend and continued to look for the herb, once he found it he began completing the circle, “That’s done, now what?”  
  
“Stand back,” Stiles warned. He sliced his palm and allowed the blood to flow freely, a few drops hit the book and the text began to glow, “Blood to blood I summon thee, soul to soul return to me,” as Stiles read the words allowed the flames grew taller, “Hear these words, heed my rhyme spirit from the other side. Come to me I call to thee; cross now the great divide.” Stiles repeated the incantation as a whirl wind formed in the middle of the room and the flames reached half way to the ceiling. As Stiles finished reading the incantation for the third time the wind stopped, the flames of the candles were black, and there standing in front of him was his mother, Claudia Stiliski.


	5. The Reuniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles sees his mother and a different side of Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a Beta reader so please excuse any errors. Anyone interested betaing for me please tell me so in the comments

It had been nine years since Stiles had seen his mother, longer since he had seen her looking so healthy, but there she was standing (or floating rather) he was dumbstruck, tears already streaming down his face, "M-mom is it really you?"

"Yeah baby," she said a gentle smile curling her lips, "so my little boy got the witch gene after all," she mused, "God I can't believe how much you've grown; the last time I saw you was..." she trailed off as Stiles turned his eyes to the floor.

"I hate to interrupt the reunion," Isaac interjected, "but we called you for a reason Mrs. Stilinski"

"Please Isaac, call me Claudia," the translucent woman said turning her gaze on the wolf, "you two are looking for information on the Order" she said matter of factly 

"How did you..." Stiles began to ask 

"I'm always watching my boy," she said with a coy smile.

"Always!?" Stiles could think of a few things hew would not want her to see and a bright red blush began creep up his neck.

"Not private moments of course," and her expression showed that if she could blush she probably would have right about then.

"Wow, okay moving on from that awkwardness," Isaac said filling the uncomfortable silence, "What can you tell us about them...the Order I mean"

"Stiles, listen to me," Claudia said voice thick with concern, "these are not good people; like our family they were there at Salem..."

"Wait, wait, wait," Stiles interrupted, "our family was in Salem!?"

"So not the point here," Isaac pointed out.

"Right, sorry, cotinue Mom."

"As I was saying, like us they were there, but unlike us they thought the mortals needed to be punished. They've spent centuries recruiting witches and trying to ride to power over mortals. If they come to power it's not just witches they'll expose, it's the entire supernatual community that's at risk," Claudia explained

"Well what's wrong with people knowing about us," Stiles wondered out loud.

"It never goes well. Mortals are petrified of what they don't understand...they're just getting used to the idea that two people of the same sex can fall in love, do you really think they could handle knowing that your friend here is a lycanthrope, or that you can twitch your nose and make things appear?"

"I guess you're right," Stiles admitted reluctantly, "but what can I do? I'm brand new at this witch thing, how am I supposed to stop a centuries old coven from exacting revenge on the mortal race?" he asked. Stiles had, of course, been talking with his hands and by the time he'd stopped the room was a wreck and Isaac was buried under a pile of books.

"Dude...hands," called Isaac's muffled voice from beneath the pile.

"That's how," his mother answered, "You are a very powerful witch Stiles you just have to learn your gifts and how to control them. All of your gifts may not have developed yet, but the secret is within you. Just feel your way through it. I have to go...the candles are almost out."  
"What...no that's impossible," he pleaded, desperately hoping for just a few more minutes, "you can't go yet, I need you"

"No, you don't," she said as if her heart were breaking, "you have Mic, your father, and so many brilliant devoted friends. You'll figure this out, you always do," she reached out a hand, "Just remember, I'll be watching and now you know how to reach me."

"I love you," Stiles choked out just as his mother seemingly blew apart in the wind. "NO," Stiles screamed, "COME BACK! You're wrong, I need you," he sobbed. He ran back to the book and began manically flipping the pages; he repeated the spell three times getting choked by his tears. "WORK DAMNIT," he shouted when she didn't reappear, "Whay good is magic if I can only spend ten minutes with her," he cried out as he sank to his knees.

Isaac walked over and went to his knees infront of Stiles so hat they were face to face, "Stiles I know how bad your hurting right now, believe me I do, but you have to believe she knows what she's talking about. Personally, I think she's right. I mean you are pretty incredible,"

"Just because I have powers now doesn't mean I'm incredible." Stiles said looking away from the other boy 

"I'm not talking about your powers, I'm talking about you," he said grabbing the other boy's chin and forcing hi. To make eye contact, "When I was stuck in a cell the night of my first full moon it was you who came to my rescue, when Derek was paralyzed you held him up in the middle of a pool, you threw a self igniting molatov cocktail at an alpha and you did all those things without powers."

Stiles blushed slightly, because honestly he had no idea Isaac thought so highly of him, and partly because their faces were only inches apart and he was litterally breathing the same air as Isaac, "Alright, I guess there's one more place I can look," he said standing up and putting some space between him and Isaac, "In the mean time I need you to get in touch with Allison and Lydia"


End file.
